Of Bike Rides and Root Beer Floats
by Nicolette134
Summary: Spinelli's got an after school ritual with a very unexpected pseudo-friend.
1. Chapter 1

Spinelli gripped the handles of her ten speed, waiting. The late summer sun was starting to set and she should have been half way home by now, but instead she was perched atop the steepest hill in town, waiting.  
She twisted the rubber grips on the handles impatiently. She hated waiting for him. At least it was nice out; a soft warm breeze was washing over her, calming her jumping nerves and rustling the leaves in the trees all around her.

Cherry Hill was probably her favorite spot in the entire town, and waiting on the crest of the hill felt like being on top of the world. She could see over the tops of the oak trees at the bottom, she could see the lake off to the left partly hidden behind the jagged teeth of the roofs.  
The sun was getting low and the sky behind her was starting to purple working its way slowly to a beautiful navy color, streaks of orange sliced through the trees sending large shadows across the slopped asphalt.

 _Where was he?_ she thought, absentmindedly tapping the peddle of her bike with one sneaker as she sighed heavily. She slumped over resting her chin on her folded arms, rocking the bike back and forth. Almost rocking the bike over the crest of the hill. She hated waiting but winning was worth it. She beat him down the hill almost every time.  
Probably a good 80% of the time, she would skid around that last corner and let her bike swing out from under her so she could watch his face fall and his eyes narrow when he saw that he had lost again.

They had raced down the hill the first time neither realizing they were racing each other until they were half way down the hill. He hadn't been going home, his house was on the other side of Cherry Hill. There was no reason for him to take this round a bout route home everyday since. But he did and she loved it.  
She loved the rush of the wind through her hair as she sped down the hill there handlebars almost tangling with the closeness of the race.

Sometimes, if he was in a really good mood- when the race had been especially close, or when he won, he would treat her to a soda on the way home. So, as much as she loved winning and the rush of satisfaction it brought her, sometimes she preferred when he won. It was hard to say out loud but she thought that she probably liked him.  
Maybe just a little.  
But maybe it was the magic of how the light hit him when he rolled his bike next to hers. Maybe the expanding feeling in her chest was just the magic of Cherry Hill.

She could hear the distinct sound of bike tires turn the corner behind her quickly. Spinelli stretched and yawned making a show of how long he had made her wait as she turned to look at him.  
"Took you long enough," she smirked as his slid his bike up next to hers. Inches away, their legs almost touching.


	2. Chapter 2

"I thought I told you I had detention with Finster?" his voice was low for their age. Low enough to be dark and subtle not low enough to be silly. It was pleasing to her ears; at least it was when they were alone like this. When the low words held some sort of secret comradery.  
"You didn't," she smirked and pushed her hair back behind her ears, her beanie and pigtails long abandoned in favor of a simple ponytail, or worn loose, like today.  
Lawson loved this hill. Cherry Hill was his favorite place in the whole town, and probably in the whole world. There was something just so perfect about this particular slope. How if you were standing at the top at the right time the setting sun sliced through the trees in a breathtaking way.

What he liked most about turning the corner and seeing the crest of the hill was that she was always waiting. Always, no matter how long he was held after class, or what she had to do after school; she was always there. Waiting for him, albeit rather impatiently.  
He loved making her wait. Sometimes he stopped just around the corner where he could still see her through the trees and watch her. The way she would shift around impatient but wouldn't leave.

He didn't have detention with Finster. He had sat on his bike around the corner watching her wait for him. There was something so wonderful about how she waited. It proved something. What they did together was important enough to her not to throw away. She didn't race home, she wouldn't race anyone else, this was something they alone shared.  
It was that Cherry Hill magic, and she was only willing to share it with him.

He smiled and watched her shift on her bike getting ready to throw herself down the hill. He laughed quietly judging the distance and the speed he would need to hit in order to win. He loved when he won, when he won he got to spend more time enveloped in the magic of Cherry Hill.  
On those days the magic of the hill would stretch to the dinner and would blanket them in a friendship they usually didn't share as they drank soda's and talked about nothing.

He loved the ring of the bells above the door of the dinner. How, on those days, the bells sang out his victory and Spinelli would smiled and laugh at all his stupid victory jokes. They would walk into the dinner together and the waitress- another Ashley, if you could believe it- would greet them with a comment about how Lawson must have won today and Spinelli would laugh and clap Lawson on the back and promise that she would win next time.

He loved winning, he just wished it happened more often. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he knew she distracted him. She was good, but she wasn't that good, certainly not good enough to to beat him almost every day. He had a good six inches and 40 pounds in the petite girl, and under normal circumstances he would beat her every time.

But these _weren't_ normal circumstances. Every time they raced down this darn hill he'd look over at her and suddenly something would tighten in his chest.  
He liked her.  
A lot.  
And he knew it wasn't _just_ the magic of Cherry Hill, because in school sometimes he found himself looking at her for no reason and wondering what she was talking about, or writing. He hoped that maybe the magic was working on her too.


	3. Chapter 3

"You ready?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow and taking in her determined expression.  
"Always," she smiled brightly, not taking her eyes off the hill, "On three?"  
"One," Lawson gripped the handlebars tightly, sending up a quick pray he'd be focused enough to win today.  
"Two," Spinelli firmly planted her foot on the peddle closest to Lawson.  
"Three!" they yelled together, and pushed off, propelling as fast as they could down the steep hill.

The tree lined street of Cherry Hill flew past them a blur of sun stained trees and deep blue shadow. The corner was coming up, this was where Spinelli almost always pulled out in front.  
Somewhere in Spinelli the adrenaline and endorphins kicked her into overdrive, and she sped around the inside corner.

Laughing happily she skidded to a stop turning to watch Lawson glide around the corner already knowing that he had lost.  
"That was great!" Spinelli smiled brightly, nothing near the smirk she usually reserved for beating him in school stuff.  
"Yeah," Lawson's voice was quiet and perhaps sad. He let his bike roll up and smash into hers, locking them temporarily together. He leaned forward on her handlebars, incredibly close to her. They had never been this close unless they were in a fistfight. This felt _just_ as charged.

"So..." Spinelli looked at her watch and Lawson sat back, leaning on the back of his seat. This was where they would say goodbye. This was where his, 'you won this time comment' should go, and then they'd part ways. But something was off today. He could feel it in the sudden coolness of the air, and there was a hesitation on both their parts.  
"So?" he repeated, unsure of what to do, but willing to follow her lead.

After a long pause, she finally spoke up, "Soda? On me this time?"  
She was looking everywhere but at him. She didn't think she could continue to breath if he said no. He leaned down and untangled their bikes.  
"Sure," he said, willing his voice to stay steady; to not seem happy or excited by the prospect. He wanted to play it cool; almost as much as he wanted to hold her hand.

He dismounted and started to walk his bike toward the diner. Spinelli dismounted and followed close behind, watching as his free hand swung slightly, mimicking the uneven path of the bike.  
They leaned their bikes up against the window and went in. The bells sang out above his head and he couldn't help but look up at them.

"Win again _Irwin_?" Ashley teased the boy from behind the counter. These two were _by far_ her favorite costumers.  
Lawson kept looking forward, "Not this time."  
He wondered if either girl could see he was blushing as he walked to his usual spot at the counter.  
"You won Ashley?" the older girl laughed knowingly, "We barely ever see you when you win."

Spinelli cleared her throat knowing very well that she was blushing, "Um, yeah." she followed Lawson to the back of the dinner, stopping briefly to order their drinks.  
She sat down across from him and wondered what they talked about last time they had sodas together. Now that this was perhaps something more than a victory drink with an almost friend she had no idea what to say or even what to do with her hands.

Out of nervous habit she began to rip up pieces of napkin and using the spoon on the table began to launch them into the water.  
"You're really good at that," he pointed out, half impressed, half out of having nothing else to say.  
"I'm a Spinelli," she shrugged as if that explained it all, "Good hand-eye coordination runs in the family."  
"Is that how you win all the time?" he laughed, not unkindly, "You're just a genetic masterpiece?"

"I wouldn't say masterpiece," she smiled slightly hitting the spoon and watching another piece of napkin plop into the water, "but then again."  
He laughed, and it was that sincere, honest laugh that she liked so much. She looked up and their eyes locked.  
"I like when you laugh," she said, the words falling out of her mouth before she could consider the consequences. She couldn't even look him in the eye.


	4. Chapter 4

"I like when you wait for me," came his quiet response. He didn't like being soft, but if there was anyone who was allowed to see him blush or hear his slightly girly words it was her. The girl who waited.  
"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to hold back her blush.  
"You wait for me on the hill every day. I like that you don't go rushing off and forget about me," he explained.  
He'd never admit it, but he was pretty sure that if he ever turned that corner and she _wasn't_ there, he'd probably drop dead on the spot.

"I like when you win," she blurted out the confession as she hit the spoon and sent another piece of napkin into the glass.  
"What?" he asked incredulously, not sure he'd heard her correctly.  
She took a deep breath, and avoided eye contact, explaining hurriedly, "I like when we come here after and we talk about nothing. Sometimes I wish you'd walk me home."

She was thankful when their root-beer floats finally came and she could stick the straw in her mouth and not have to talk.  
"Okay," he told her, his low voice wavering with a nervousness that he loathed. He knew his face was probably red, and he hated that too.

They drank their floats in relative silence, breaking it every once in a while to relay a rumor or funny story that had nothing to do with either of them, just so it wasn't _so_ incredibly awkward. When they both exhausted all the topics they could cover, and had finished their drinks, Spinelli left some money on the table and the pair left the diner, although neither was really ready to break the spell. Lawson simply started rolling his bike in the direction of her house.  
"Where are you going?" she asked hoarsely, suddenly even more nervous than before. Sher palms were slick on her handlebars.

"I'm walking you home _Ashley_ , or are you so unfamiliar with the concept?" he rolled his eyes and she punched him in the arm, their tenuous friendship returning once again.  
"Shut up, you jerk," she mumbled, but her words held none of the usual sharpness reserved for when she called him names.  
He was smiling and they laughed quietly together making fun of each other like they always did.

The magic of Cherry Hill followed them taking out the bite in their words and replacing it with what may have been affection. Lawson stood with his bike on the street in front of Spinelli's house and watched as she dropped her bike on the front lawn.  
"See you tomorrow." she smiled, watching him mount his bike.  
"I'll win tomorrow," he vowed, more to himself than to her.  
"We'll see about that," she returned, sticking her tongue out.  
"Wait for me?" he asked, anxious that something'd changed between them.  
"Always do," she turned, embarrassed by her words, even though they were true.

Something _had_ changed between them, he acknowledged, but suddenly that didn't seem like such a bad thing, after all.


End file.
